


before i live at all

by clarkescrusade (alindy)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 15:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4570110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alindy/pseuds/clarkescrusade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Murphy wasn’t like coming home or finding a missing puzzle piece or sunshine grazing over her skin, but he was understanding, a partner with a familiar ache, something that made her feel unquestionably alive, and there was nothing perfect about it, but it made her hold on tighter."</p><p>A season 2 canon divergence where Murphy ends up in Mount Weather with the gang.</p>
            </blockquote>





	before i live at all

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Brief mention of physical abuse - only a sentence or two. 
> 
> For nathanmilers on tumblr who won second place in my fanfiction giveaway.

Harper had been allowed free for three days when she saw Murphy for the first time, meandering his way into the cafeteria with a permanent scowl and shifting eyes. The rumor had been that he was stabbed in the leg and had to be patched up, and noticing the slight limp he moved with as he tried to figure out just where to go, Harper was sure it was true.

“Look who’s back,” she muttered, signaling with her head.

“Clarke finally out?” Monty exclaimed, whipping around, but his whole face fell as he failed to catch a whip of the familiar blonde hair.

“Murphy?” Jasper spoke, his eyes trailing him completely devoid of any tact. “He hadn’t even been in the dropship.”

“Guess he was close enough that the guys in the hazmat suits were able to find him. That’s what I’ve heard, anyway,” Harper said. She knew she should still be angry after everything he had done to them, after the chaos he had created and the friends she’d watched die after he carried in that plague, but their was something rather depressing about the way he didn’t know where to go.

The pity was almost strong enough to wave him over, but even Harper had limits. She didn’t want to have to look at his condescending eyes or field any rude questions just because Murphy had no other setting besides _bitter, angry,_ and _pissed off_. All she had to do was have observed him a few times from afar to know that.

Luckily he sat himself down at a vacant table, loading up a plate and eating like his life depended on it. Letting out a soft sigh, Harper was glad she didn’t have to decide just how forgiving of a person she was today, even if the sight of him practically shrinking into himself as he ate seemed to claw away at her. Why did she even care so much? The two of them had never had any sort of connection, heck, they’d barely even _interacted_.

“Harper! You still with us?” Jasper asked, both eyebrows raised high.

“Yea,” she replied, “just thinking is all.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he joked, laughing a little to himself until he realized no one else thought he was funny. Jasper shrugged, reaching forward to shovel more food into his mouth.

Harper turned back to her plate, wondering how in the world she had ever had a crush on him in the first place. Ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous.

* * *

“Oh,” Harper exclaimed, grabbing at the wall to regain her balance, “I’m sorry, I-”

The words stuck in her throat as she finally raised her eyes, noticing the questioning yet piercing stare that could only ever belong to Murphy. With all of her walking around and exploring, Harper had yet to run into Murphy since noticing him in the cafeteria several days earlier. Which just made the whole thing that much more ridiculous when she managed to _literally_ run into him.

“You’re what?” he pushed, his voice like a wire pulled taut, just waiting to snap. His face jutted forward a little bit as he waited for her response, begging her to continue. “Don’t want to say sorry now that you saw it was me?”

“I was going to say I didn’t see you there, but continue to assume all you want,” she snapped, her eyes narrowing. Murphy’s scowl slipped into a smirk, his eyes seeming to light up at something, and it only brought Harper’s eyes more closed, more wary. “What?”

Murphy shrugged, and it only managed to make Harper feel more on edge. There was something about the calmness in Murphy’s smugness that made Harper feel like she was coiling up, like something inside of her was twisting tight and she had no idea how to loosen it.

“Have you seen Clarke?”

“You want to talk to Clarke? You think she would even want to see you at all?”

Murphy’s smirk fell faster than Harper could have ever anticipated. He shuffled, almost nervous, before looking up, his face hardened and difficult to read. “With what I have to tell her? Yea, I think she does.”

“What? That Raven is probably dead because of you? Most likely the same about Bellamy and Finn? I’m sure that’ll be real reassuring.”

Murphy’s jaw tightened. “Fuck off, Harper.”

“You’re the one being an asshole to me!”

“ _I’m_ being the asshole? Really? Might want to take a look at yourself in a mirror.”

“This is why I’ve never tried to talk to you, because you do this thing with your words and your smug little mouth and snarky eyes and…” Harper finally stopped, realizing that her words were just tumbling into a larger, far more dangerous snowball than her sharp words had been before.

“You done?” Murphy’s mouth curved into that same smug twist that wrenched the curl in her stomach tighter, making her feel like she could pounce at any moment.

There was something weirdly enthralling about it, something that made Harper’s body feel like it was running on something so much stronger than blood and fragile heartbeats, like she could truly be fueled by fire, but she didn’t know why it _mattered_ and certainly not why it was _Murphy_ who caused this reaction.

“Good,” he continued. “Back to the Clarke thing. I need to find her to tell her about Bellamy.”

“What about Bellamy?” Harper realized she probably sounded too eager, _looked_ too eager as her eyes lit up and her naturally tense muscles slipped into something far easier, but she honestly did not care.

“I think he’s alive, which means there’s a good chance Finn is alive and anyone else who had accidentally been stranded outside of the dropship.”

“Like you?”

“Like me. Except lucky enough to not have been locked in a mountain with all the people that hate them.”

Harper paused, her teeth gnawing on her lower lip as the whole situation washed over her. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you want to tell Clarke that? By all accounts shouldn’t you want her to suffer?”

Murphy’s body seemed to jolt at the comment, like he had been dunked in cold water. The smirk returned to his lips, albeit much sadder than before. There was a sort of loneliness to it that tugged at Harper’s heart; Murphy was so _used_ to it, the assumptions of what other’s thought, but it certainly didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Contrary to popular belief, I’m not a sadist.”

“Fine,” Harper finally replied after a few long, tense seconds. “I’m pretty sure I know where she is. You can come with me.”

His lips parted as if he was about to spew words of thanks, but they snapped back shut, his head nodding forcefully instead. Harper wondered if he was even capable of it, giving thanks, or if maybe so little had been given to him he had just never had a need for the word. That, too, was unendingly sad to Harper.

She hadn’t realized that somewhere along the line she had become so understanding to others’ loneliness, but she guessed it was easy to see something when it lived inside of you as well.

“I realized,” Murphy blurted out, and it was clear he was just as confused as Harper was by his furrowed brow as to why he was admitting this, “that I didn’t want to die alone. I didn’t want to go out like that.”

Harper didn’t say anything, the only sound bouncing around them the tapping of their shoes against the linoleum floor. Her whole body ached with understanding, tingling with the ability to relate.

“Forget I ever said anything,” he replied, his words harsh, but Harper was fairly sure the way he was keeping his eyes trained forward signaled his embarrassment.

“I don’t want to die either,” she responded. She trailed her eyes over to Murphy, surprised to find him staring straight back at her. It wasn’t as chilling of a gaze as she thought it might be, actually quite the opposite. There was something startling about looking into his eyes, something that felt distinctly _alive_. “Especially before I even actually live at all.”

Murphy humphed in agreement.

* * *

Life in Mount Weather was, for lack of a better word, nice. Harper liked that she had clean shirts and warm sweaters to wrap herself up in, that she didn’t have to worry about blood staining her shirt because it was the only one she had. It was calming to have a hair brush to pull through her locks and to see her friends smile because Monty had pulled a card trick and not because they had just saved their lives by diverting a spear to the stomach.

It was relaxing and calming and Harper should have known better, because there was no way life could get this good without a huge ass _but_.

“It’s a map without _exits_ ,” Clarke repeated, shaking the map in front of their eyes like they were idiots.

Which, truthfully, Harper figured they kinda _were_. Jasper was blinded by the way Maya stared after him, Miller in his cleanly-pressed shirts, and Harper in the warm food and soft blankets. They saw what they wanted to, mostly because it was a whole hell of a lot easier.

“But they can’t exit or they’ll die, it’s a logical thing,” Jasper replied.

Harper tried to will it to be true, hoping with all of her heart that just this once the world would take pity on her and let her have this. God, she wanted it so _bad_. But hope wasn’t truth and wishes weren’t worth a damn thing.

“Makes you wonder,” Murphy piped up from a bed over, his eyes never leaving the book he was reading as he added in his two cents, “why exactly they need us to stay so bad.”

The thought chilled Harper to the bone, the soul-crushing thought that these people, strangers really, could be using them. All this time she had thought the delinquents needed Mount Weather more than it needed them, but suddenly like a thought crystallizing right in front of her she could see the possibility of the startling reality.

“Shut up, Murphy,” Miller intoned.

“I’m telling you guys what I saw,” Clarke continued, nonplussed, “that man was _not_ killed by an arrow wound and something isn’t _right_. Not to forget that Bellamy and Finn and Monroe and several others could be out there alive.”

“What if-” Monty began, eyes wide, but Jasper cut him off with sharp words.

“They aren’t out there, Clarke.” Jasper’s hands clenched up by his sides, his knuckles flashing white.

“Who says they aren’t? Murphy’s alive!”

“Don’t bring me into this argument, princess,” Murphy said, rolling his eyes.

Jasper sighed, turning his eyes away from Murphy and straight toward Clarke. “Why do you want to screw this up for us?”

“I don’t know what this is,” Clarke spoke.

“This is… safe.”

“No, this is a place where you can bone some chick who doesn’t already know what an idiot you are,” Murphy added.

Harper coughed in her hand to hide her chuckle.

“Please stop talking like you’re in this conversation!” Jasper exclaimed.

“Find a better spot to have your squad meeting next time.”  

“How long do you think they’re going to let us stay here if you keep this up?” Jasper added, ignoring Murphy’s words and the glare he sent their way as he vacated his bed.

“Did someone threaten you?” Clarke’s eyes lit up in fire, and Harper was reminded that beneath her pink sweater and blonde hair Clarke was a warrior held up with iron bones and a steel heart. Her life had shifted into war and she didn’t know how to live without it, how to function without the constant fury and battle; staying cooped up in that mountain wasn’t going to be possible for her, it just wasn’t _Clarke_.

“No,” he scoffed, “it’s common sense. We’re guests, not prisoners, what would you do with a guest who kept calling you a liar? One who was being an ungrateful ass?”

“Kick the ungrateful ass out,” Miller answered.

Harper saw the fury that furled up beneath Clarke’s skin at the thought, the way her muscles tightened as if preparing to lunge to war, so it really shouldn’t have been such a surprise when Clarke disappeared soon after.

Hope was for suckers, and Harper wished she would finally learn that.

* * *

Two days after Clarke disappeared, Harper startled awake in the middle of the night. Her skin warm, her breath ragged, she pushed out of her bed and eyed the space around her.

“It’s just me.”

Harper snapped her gaze to her right, noticing Murphy standing a few feet away. His hands were held up in surrender, like he was trying to proclaim his innocence or maybe like she was going to attack, but all she did was stare back.

“You can go back to bed.” His hands finally fell back to his sides, and Harper found herself watching the twitch of his fingers as she caught her breath. “Are you ok?”

The words startled Harper, and she snapped her eyes back up to his. Murphy’s eyebrows pushed together, and she realized belatedly that this was what concerned looked like on Murphy. It was unpracticed, uncomfortable, like he was wearing a suit jacket two sizes too big, but somehow the color was still perfect for him. She wouldn’t have expected something warm about the way Murphy stared at her, but Harper was starting to learn that the person she had thought Murphy was certainly wasn’t anywhere near who he _actually_ was.

“Fine,” she answered, the words plummeting out of her mouth several tense seconds later.

Murphy scoffed. “Aren’t we all.”

“What are you doing up?” Harper questioned, stepping forward.

“I couldn’t sleep, decided to go for a walk.” Murphy shifted his weight, lifting a hand up to rub his nose. “You want to come with?”

Harper was surprised that Murphy liked her enough to invite her along. It felt as if Murphy was incapable of it, but that was probably just because Harper was used to dehumanizing him. It was startling in itself to realize that Murphy was a person too, just like her. It left her stumbling for words, deciding to nod at him instead and fall in line by his side.

“You don’t sleep very well,” Murphy stated.

“Excuse me?” Harper raised her eyebrows in question.

“You toss and turn a lot in your sleep, jolt at little sounds.”

“You realize how creepy that sounds, right?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Murphy scoffed. “Your bed is right beside mine.”

Silence fell around them as they wandered through the dimly lit halls, and Harper caught herself staring at Murphy’s profile when his eyes were trained forward. It was bizarre to see him clean, his skin free of blood and wounds, and it had never struck her before that there was something oddly beautiful about Murphy.

His hair was pushed back, his mouth set in a frown, yet Harper couldn’t help but let her eyes trail over the regions of his face like she was studying to draw a map all her own. Murphy turned toward her abruptly, and Harper remembered the warmth that came with Murphy’s gaze. When he looked at you it was hard not to feel present, like you were the only thing in the room because of the strength of his singular fixed look.

“See something you like?” The smirk that stretched across his lips fit him like a glove.

“How did you get to be you?”

The air seemed to freeze over, the hair on Harper’s arms bristling. Any joy in Murphy’s face washed straight away, replaced with a hardened mask and death-filled eyes. “You mean,” he spat, “how does a monster become a monster?”

“You always just assume the worst in people,” Harper responded, her words a harsh whisper.

“They’ve never shown me anything different,” he argued, “and you know what? Neither have you.”

“Murphy,” she hissed, rage spiraling through her veins as he walked away.

“Go back to bed, Harper,” he told her, the words flung over his shoulder without another look.

“I killed someone!” The call was both an admittal and a plea, and Murphy halted in his place. “I killed someone.” Harper breathed out, her heart thumping in her throat as she waited to see just what Murphy was going to do.

Murphy turned, his arms crossed across his chest, and nodded once.

“No one knows what I did to get down here,” she began. The truth bubbled underneath her skin, noxious and dangerous, but she felt it spilling out of her before she could even question it. “My dad beat me and my mom. He was always working third shift and by the time he got home he was just pent up with so much anger, had one hell of a temper on him, and he just couldn’t help himself.

“There was one night when he just wouldn’t stop, and I screamed and screamed but no one was going to call for the guard just because some random fucked up family couldn’t get their shit in order. I remember the color of my mother’s blood on the ground as he hit her, her yells turning to nothing but whimpers, and the next thing I knew I was standing there with a knife in my hand that I had just plunged straight into his neck. My mom just asked me what I’d done, cried for the fucker and didn’t even thank me. That was the last time I ever saw her.”

Neither Murphy nor Harper moved as the admission fell to a close, the truth dangling between them like something unbelievably fragile. He stepped forward, bridging the space between them so there was now only a foot or so, and bit his lip hard.

“So, this boy, right? He has the flu,” Murphy spoke, “and his father steals medicine for him, medicine that wouldn’t have even helped anyway. Gets floated for it, and his mother, she starts drinking pretty heavily after that. Last words she ever says to him before he finds her in a pool of her own vomit is that he killed his father.”

“You tell it a lot more eloquently than me,” Harper whispered, a sad smile playing at her mouth. Murphy shook his head, reaching up to wipe a stray tear away.

“Let’s just settle for we’re both fucked up.”

Harper nodded, feeling something in her stomach pull her toward Murphy. Before she could even contemplate the thought she had reached forward, hands grabbing at his face as she stared at him with the understanding of pain held deep within, the ache that never seemed to leave. “Fucked up sounds about right.”

Everything about Murphy screamed confused as Harper touched him, his body tightening as she released her hold on his face to move in for a hug. Harper had no idea what was compelling her forward, what made her move to him, but there was something so strangely right about the two of them held together that she couldn’t find a reason to pull back. His arms finally wrapped back around her, pulling her in closer to him, and Harper felt the ghost of a smile tug at her lips.

Murphy wasn’t like coming home or finding a missing puzzle piece or sunshine grazing over her skin, but he _was_ understanding, a partner with a familiar ache, something that made her feel unquestionably _alive_ , and there was nothing perfect about it, but it made her hold on tighter.

* * *

“Sorry to break up whatever the hell this thing with the two of you is,” Murphy spoke, plopping himself down on the bed across from Monty and Miller, “but have you guys seen Harper?”

“Harper didn’t make it to breakfast,” Jasper stated, appearing out of nowhere.

“I haven’t seen her since Dante’s office,” Miller added.

“So, where the hell is she?” Monty asked. His voice was laced with concern as he looked between them and his eyes wide with worry.

“Where the hell- we should have never broken up and left her out there alone.” Murphy pushed up from the bed, his body tensing with fury. “Damnit!” The bed shook as he kicked it, his hands grabbing at his hair.

“We’ll find her,” Monty promised, but Murphy didn’t feel comforted by his assurance.

“Damn right we will,” he replied. Murphy wasn’t going to let anything happen to her, not if he could help it.

* * *

Murphy saw Harper just a day later after getting caught in the control room after stealing a key card. He didn’t notice her until after he finished struggling against the guards, his yells futile in the empty space, but when he finally did his heart clenched.

“Harper, are you ok?”

Her body stayed still in the cage above his own, the only sign of life her slowly raising chest and the twitch of her fingers as if she was almost using them to count. “There’s 48 of them.” Harper’s voice was slow and tired, defeated, and Murphy felt infuriated that someone could do this to her. “They built one for each of us.”

“Do you know what they’re using us for?” he questioned.

“They want to go home,” Harper answered.

“Harper, what does that mean?”

“People from the sky and people buried beneath the Earth both desperate to get to the ground… how poetic is that?” Harper twisted her body so that their eyes latched onto one another, and Murphy could see for the first time the tear tracks that stained her cheeks.

“I’d like to go just a few days without having my life threatened.”

Harper laughed tiredly, the sounds coming out more of a cry than anything else. “Wouldn’t that be nice.”

“Harper, what did they do to you?” Murphy’s voice was the softest Harper had ever heard it, and for some reason it made another cry erupt from her.

“They want our bone marrow,” she uttered, “and they’re going to suck us dry for it.”

“I swear to God I will kill them before they can touch you.”

Harper caught his gaze, a pitiful replica of a laugh stumbling from her throat. “What in the world made you care about me?”

Murphy halted, a slow exhale flowing through the space.“No one’s ever thought I was a person before.”

“John.” Harper tried the name out, a smile appearing as she realized how sweet it felt sliding over her lips. Murphy was fairly sure he had never heard anything so awe-inspiring in his entire life as the way his name sounded when Harper said it, but he stayed quiet, letting her finish. “I really don’t want to die alone.”

“I told you, you aren’t going to-”

“ _John_.” Harper’s voice cracked into a small, timid thing. It practically broke his heart, the pang spreading through his veins like a poison. Her body started to shake with new tears, and Murphy reached up, hooking his fingers through the cage so they touched hers.

* * *

“Harper?” Murphy shifted to his right, hoping to find a spot where his back didn’t entirely convulse in pain as he leaned back against the cage, but it was useless.

“Just let her sleep,” Monty replied. His voice made it apparent he too could use some sleep, but ever since he had been thrown in his own shiny cage, Murphy hadn’t seen him doze for even a minute. He wondered if it was from pain or worry -- probably a mixture of the two.

“She’s not sleeping.”

“I’m not sleeping,” she confirmed. Harper tried to lift herself up so she could sit in the cage, but her arms gave way underneath her weight. A small whimper fell from her lips. Her body couldn’t manage to find the energy to release screams anymore (only on the table, but even there it seemed her body had given up its fight, realizing the futility of a war it was becoming increasingly apparent she couldn’t win), and even the most miniscule of movements felt like moving through drying concrete. “What were you going to ask?”

“Nothing,” he admitted. The sound of her scratchy voice, nothing more than a whisper anymore, breathy and defeated, sent chills down his spine. “I just wanted to make sure you were there.”

“We’ll get out of here,” Monty interjected, but even he didn’t quite believe the words, his voice falling flat.

The sound of high heels clacking in a uniform rhythm broke the usual silence of the hallway, and all three delinquents shifted as they knew what was coming. Dr. Tsing’s smile was all sorts of macabre as she set down her clipboard and stared at the three of them like pigs for slaughter, deciding which one would bring her back the most bacon.

“Let’s go with the girl today.”

“Fuck off!” Murphy screamed, slamming his hand against the cage door. “She’s too weak, take me.”

Dr. Tsing eyed him like he was nothing more than dirt beneath her red-tipped shoes, rolling her eyes and nodding her head toward Harper. Murphy felt bile roll up his throat as he noticed how much more broken Harper looked as she was dragged to the table, how the blood was caked on her face and her body nothing more than a rag doll.

“Please,” Harper pleaded.

Monty grunted, the sound filled with rage and desperation. “Don’t, stop.”

“Don’t,” Harper echoed, only loud enough for Murphy to hear as it slithered toward him. “No, not again.”

“Fuck you!” He yelled, the sound scratching his throat. A guard came over, kicking the cage and crashing his foot down onto Murphy’s fingers wrapped around the bars. “Goddamnit, you bastard.”

“Please stop!” Monty bellowed.

“Step away from that girl.”

Murphy twisted his body toward the sound, noticing the president swagger through the doorway.

“Jasper!”

“Monty!”

“Release them,” Dante ordered.

The same guard who had just crushed Murphy’s fingers unlocked the cage, Murphy pushing the door open quickly so that it hit him in the shins. He crawled out and up into a standing position, meeting the guard’s scowl with his smirk the whole time, before rushing toward the table and Harper.

“Harper,” he breathed out, his hands floating around her sporadically as if she were too fragile to touch. Murphy settled on bringing his hands to her face, cringing at her slight wince. The corner of Harper’s mouth reached up, slow but sure, and Murphy smiled back. He was fairly sure there were tears dripping from his eyes, but he knew the two of them were too bonded for such a thing to bother her.

Stepping closer, he brought a hand behind her back and helped her up. Harper fell into his arms as soon as her feet had regained contact with the ground, and the two of them leaned into the other, limbs thrown over each other and held tight to remind the two of them that they were still breathing, that they had made it, as they wobbled back to the dorm.

* * *

Harper was getting really tired of the whole _speaking too soon_ thing. How she had managed to ignore the fact that nothing had went smoothly since she had plummeted straight down to Earth was a mystery even to herself, and as she held the gun in her hands poised and ready to go no matter who entered through the door, she was startled by how familiar a weight it was in her arms.

“You ready?”

Harper wasn’t quite sure when Murphy’s voice had turned from something that set her on edge to something familiar, comfortable, but she was grateful for it anyhow. “As I’ll ever be. You?”

Murphy turned his head toward her, their eyes locking together like it was what they were always meant to do. He stepped closer to her, now practically no space between them at all, close enough she could feel his breath on the side of her face, and brought a hand up to cup her cheek. Harper’s breathing seemed to slow, time close to stopping as he moved forward and brought his lips to hers.

The weight of his hand pushing back into her hair was grounding, real, and Harper loved the warmth of Murphy. The two of them connected was electrifying, like every single bit of Harper was sparking and ready to light anyone who came near ablaze. As she pulled back, resting her forehead against his for the briefest of seconds, a sense of concentrated joy overtook her.

“Am now,” he breathed out, and then he was stepping back, getting into place for battle, and she raised her gun to her shoulder.

Just another day on Earth.

* * *

Harper hustled through the mob of people, tripping over her own feet as she raked her eyes for Murphy.

“You’re safe.”

Harper whipped her body to the right, launching herself straight at him. He chuckled underneath his breath, wrapping his arms around her back in return. They held themselves close together, every inch of their bodies touching, and Harper nuzzled her face into his shoulder. It was practically comical how touchy she was, because she had never considered herself a physical person and never would have expected it of Murphy, but it was what they needed, the reminder that they were right there, whole and ok.

“I really like you,” Harper whispered into his shoulder.

“You do?” Murphy had never sounded so innocent, his voice tiny and breathy.

“I wouldn’t have let you kiss me if I didn’t.”

“So, that thing, us, it can be real?”

Harper pulled back, smiling through her fatigue and her pain and the darkness that was still burrowed deep in her chest. “It _is_ real.”

This time when they kissed there was nothing life or death about it, just them, Harper and Murphy. It didn’t make sense, certainly to neither of them, but it worked; better than worked, it was the most imperfect kind of perfect.

They held onto each other on their way back to camp, their fingers intertwined and their shoulders leaning into the other’s, and for the first time Earth felt like something conquerable. They didn’t feel just alive, but like they were living, truly and honestly, and they were both excited to take that adventure on together.  


End file.
